


Broken Wing

by Fandom_Trash16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Cas is sad, Dean is sad, Episode 8x17, Heartache, M/M, Running from Feelings, Sad, Shameless Destiel Sadness, why is this ship overtaking my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:35:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6521845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Trash16/pseuds/Fandom_Trash16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He opened his mouth, so many words on the tip of his tongue, conflicting with each other. He didn’t know which to choose, what to say. There was a burn in his chest along with that stomach-dropping guilt, a pain worse than any he had experienced before, an emotion he didn’t know how to begin describing.</p><p>“I’m so sorry.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Wing

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm just looking for an angel with a broken wing, one that couldn't fly away." - Led Zeppelin

“I need you.”

Those three words reverberated through Castiel’s being. _I need you…I need you…_

Dean’s bruised and bloody face came into focus before his eyes, Naomi’s commanding face fading away. _I need you…_  

The blade clattered to the floor.

Castiel bent at the waist, robotic, dazed, fingertips stretching towards the angel tablet. His vessel attempted to rebel against the movement to follow the orders it had been given.

_Kill him, Castiel!_

Yet somehow, the plea overrode the command.

As soon as his fingers touched the cold stone, the writing began to glow and he felt an inexplicable rush of energy. A blinding, searing light overtook the room, and when his vision cleared, so did his mind. He gazed into Dean’s terrified eyes, his brow furrowing as he surveyed the damage he had done.

“Cas?”

Castiel reached forward slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, his heart sinking as Dean tiredly whispered, “No, Cas…no…”

His hand pressed against Dean’s cheek, his eyes sad and jaw clenched when Dean clutched the sleeve of his trench coat in fear. Dean’s face was healed with a touch, and he gasped softly, his eyes searching Castiel’s for answers he didn’t have.

Castiel felt a terrible, empty, gnawing feeling in his stomach ( _guilt_ , his mind sang) as he shook his head slightly, a pained expression on his face. He opened his mouth, so many words on the tip of his tongue, conflicting with each other. He didn’t know which to choose, what to say. There was a burn in his chest along with that stomach-dropping guilt, a pain worse than any he had experienced before, an emotion he didn’t know how to begin describing.

“I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s wide eyes burned into his, betrayed and full of confusion. “What the hell just happened?” His gruff voice sliced through Castiel’s heart like a blade. _He needed you, and you let him down…again…_

Dean struggled to his feet, ignoring Castiel’s outstretched hand. “Naomi…has been controlling you since she got you out of Purgatory?”

Castiel lifted his downcast eyes to trace over Dean’s now closed off features. There was still a desire for answers written on the other man’s face, but a mask lay above it, one that Castiel feared Dean would never remove.

“Yeah.”

“What broke the connection?”

Castiel looked away, feeling that burning in his chest grow. _You…_ “I don’t know.” He looked down at the ancient stone clutched in his hands.

“I just know I have to protect this tablet now.” _Coward…_ his mind hissed.

Dean looked at him questioningly. “From Naomi?” he asked slowly.

“Yes,” Castiel breathed in relief that Dean understood. But as his eyes tracked over the scratches in the tablet, he felt that innate surge of duty he couldn’t suppress. _Protect heaven_ , his mind was chanting. _Protect heaven._ “And from you,” he said.

Castiel felt as though he was being torn to shreds by the distress and raw emotion in Dean’s eyes. _Betrayal…he still trusts you_ …

“Wait, what are you talk--”

Castiel had left, tablet in hand, before he heard Dean finish his question. His vision was blurred, and he touched a finger to his eye in curiosity, to catch a solitary, silvery tear.


End file.
